


if you are yourself

by doublejoint



Category: One Piece
Genre: 5+1 Things, Established Relationship, M/M, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-23 00:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30047115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublejoint/pseuds/doublejoint
Summary: Five times they shared clothes, and one time they swapped.
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Trafalgar D. Water Law
Comments: 12
Kudos: 35





	if you are yourself

(1)

The designs on Zoro’s jittoku remind him of Law’s tattoos in reverse, the spokes on the outside surrounding the points arranged in a circle. More likely than anything else, it’s a coincidence; he hadn’t chosen the outfit himself, after all. As coincidences go (and to the extent Zoro believes in them), it’s not a bad one, drawing a thin thread between him and Law, even when Law’s not there.

Maybe it’s drawing a second threat when he is. Zoro pauses to look up at the trees, the delicate leaves, red even in summer, hanging low from the branches draped and leaning as if offering help to insects on the ground. When he looks up, Law is still close by, a few meters or so ahead of him, but not always looking back. Zoro quickens his pace, and as he does, the wind picks up. There’s a snap in the air, nothing like winter but enough to make Law pull the front of his yukata closer together; he’d left everything else of his back in the ruins. Zoro shrugs his jittoku from his shoulders, and, as he reaches Law, offers it out.

“I’m fine,” says Law, and then as the breeze snaps again at their legs, Law presses his lips together.

Zoro drapes the garment over Law, pulling it close together at the front, perhaps not the most effective cover but, at least, something. Law grabs it from him, continuing to hold it shut with his right hand, inadvertently displaying the tattoo on his forearm. They do go well with that pattern 

“What?”

“Looks good on you,” says Zoro. 

Law pushes his hat higher on his forehead. He looks a little bit as if he’s on the deck of a ship that’s smacked the wrong way into a wave, but they’re on dry land. He lets go of the front of the jacket, and with it, reaches for Zoro. The sky is a sharp blue against the reds and greens of the foliage. Law’s fingers are cool on Zoro’s cheek, and he’s probably even colder than they give him up to being.

* * *

(2)

Law’s not scatterbrained, per se, but he has a way of leaving things lying about, so it’s no small wonder that he leaves one of his shirts in the crow’s nest and Zoro doesn’t find it until he’s been gone a few days. It still smells like him, like his submarine, the way Zoro’s own clothes do after spending the night in his quarters, generic detergent and the tang of disinfectant. It fits Zoro all wrong--he can’t button it at all; it’s a little bit tight in the arms and long on him, but he can get it on if he leaves it open. It doesn’t look half-bad on him, but Law will probably want it back at some point.

He calls that evening on the dendenmushi and asks if Zoro’s seen it.

“Yeah, ” says Zoro. “It was in the crow’s nest. I’m wearing it now.”

Silence. Then, “You’ll stretch it out.”

“It’s unbuttoned.”

Another silence. Law sighs on the other end, and--yeah, that had sounded pretty forward, hadn’t it? It’s no use thinking about these things when Law’s not actually here to look at him, to touch him. A knock sounds at the door.

“Sanji says get off the line and do the dishes!” 

Zoro rolls his eyes. He definitely hadn’t said it like that, but it’s nice of Usopp to sanitize it, he supposes.

“Just don’t lose the buttons,” says Law.

* * *

(3)

The hallways in the submarine are a fucking maze, and Zoro’s half asleep, and the light in the middle of the night is so damn low, so it’s not his fault it takes him a few minutes each to find the bathroom and find his way back. When he’d left, the covers had been down at the bottom of the bed, but Law’s legs are now wrapped in the duvet like a merman’s tail and he’s wearing--Zoro’s shirt. The arms are way too loose and it’s too short on him; half his stomach is exposed. Cute, but probably not too warm.

“Cold?” Zoro says as he crawls over Law to get to the other side of the bed.

Law mumbles something unintelligible, and Zoro pulls at the covers. If Law’s awake, he doesn’t have to worry about pulling too hard to get some for himself. They give a little, and then more; he pulls out the end tucked under Law’s legs and pulls it around himself, dropping his arm over Law’s waist. He doesn’t feel particularly cold, but maybe he’s warmed up already. A little bit hypocritical of him, maybe, since he’d acted so bothered about Zoro wearing his shirt before, though this time Zoro’s here to see this, and he doesn’t really care if Law stretches it out at the bottom. It’ll get tucked into his haramaki anyway.

* * *

(4)

Zoro wakes up to an unfamiliar weight on his head. When he reaches up, his hand finds something soft and hollow, easily pushed down to his head but that springs back into place not quite like a rubber band. He takes it off; he could guess by the texture, but looking at it it’s definitely Law’s hat, so he puts it back on his head, adjusting it to a more comfortable position, looking around him.

He knows already Law’s not right there, though really, the least he could do if he had other business to attend to was wake Zoro up. On the other hand, for whatever reason, Law’s actually here, so--Zoro rubs his eyes. When he’d fallen asleep the sun had been shining directly on him, but the angle of the sun or the angle of the boat has changed and he’s now in the shade. Zoro pushes himself up, closes another button on his coat, and grabs his swords, fitting each onto his sash as he walks.

He passes Usopp, absorbed in writing something; there are some of Law’s crewmates, sitting with Nami and looking at a map. If he were Law, where would he go, business to attend to or not? Or, rather, if he’s himself, where would he find him? Zoro looks up. The leaves of the orange trees sway where they hang over the deck. Yeah, that’s likely.

Law’s a little ways in, alone; the shadow of a tree trunk covers the ends of his boots like a blanket. He still has hat hair. Zoro wants to smile, only he’s still kind of annoyed--or he wants to be, really. He reaches up and ruffles Law’s hair. Law looks like he wants to grab the hat back, but he doesn’t; his arms are still folded across his chest.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Zoro says.

“I tried,” says Law. “You were too deeply asleep.” 

“Try harder.”

Law glares, absent any real ferocity or even annoyance. 

It’s more comfortable leaning his head on Law’s shoulder without the hat, probably, and it’s less likely for him to smack Law in the chin with the brim if there’s no hat and thus no brim. Still, he’ll keep it on for now.

* * *

(5)

The sash is bright against Law’s jacket, the color of blood on the battlefield. The color’s what had made it stand out to Zoro in the first place, but it suits Law as much as it suits him, if in a different way. (And with Law, isn’t it nearly as likely to be blood from a medical context?) Law threads his sword through, but the tip is nearly on the floor and the hilt’s at his shoulder and it really doesn’t work at all. 

“Try it around your back,” Zoro says.

“Like Hawkeyes?”

“Yeah.”

Law obliges, and, standing like that--the effect is ridiculous, the sword long and the sheathed blade thin behind his spine, no enormous hilt spread at the back of his shoulders. Zoro snorts.

“Quit making fun of me,” says Law.

“I’m not.”

“You’re the one who suggested this.”

“I still think it could work,” says Zoro, because--maybe if he tilts it, keeps it sort of under his arm and at a slant--there’s still a way, maybe, that he can keep his arm mostly free while keeping his sword on his person.

Maybe.

Law frowns, touches the bridge of his nose, and then unties the sash, catching his sword before it hits the ground, before it really even catches the air, and tucking it back into the crook of his shoulder. 

“Here.”

Zoro steps forward to receive the sash, but Law hooks his arms around Zoro’s waist, pulling him in closer, and winds the sash around him until it’s a little looser than Zoro usually likes it.

“Tighter,” Zoro says. 

Law obliges, until he reaches the right amount of slack, and then waits.

“Is this good?”

Zoro nods. Law’s mouth is close to his ear, and Zoro could kiss him if he were to crane his neck just enough. He should, maybe. Law knots the sash fast, sailor that he is, but doesn’t draw back. It’s nice to be held, too, even if this is not quite that, but that distance is also easier to close, with a forward lean and his own arms raised only to come down over Law’s shoulders and meet behind his back. 

“You could make it work,” Zoro says.

* * *

(+1)

There are now at least four pairs of Law’s socks mixed in with Zoro’s. He’s pretty sure there are at least four, anyway; it’s tough to get an accurate count because they all look the same, short and black with extra-thick heels in some places worn as thin as the sides and toes. All things being equal, Zoro prefers longer socks; they’re less likely to roll down on his feet or give him blisters when he gets a new pair of boots, but these are actually pretty comfortable and, well, it’s nice to think about Law after he takes off his boots at the end of the day, hooks his finger under the elastic and pulls the sock from his foot.

He’s been meaning to give them back, but in the way that has no conviction behind it, and it always slips his mind when he sees Law. Besides, some of his own socks have gone wandering off, and he can’t remember if he’d left any of them in Law’s room or in other places. Maybe they’d fallen overboard, clipped badly to the clotheslines, but having Law’s means he doesn’t have to get any more, and Law hasn’t asked for them back yet. 

By happenstance, Zoro ends up wearing them on a day they meet up, which he remembers when Law’s leading him once again along the labyrinth of hallways in the  _ Polar Tang _ and trying to tell him that, really, it’s simple, and he’s the one who gets lost easily (absolutely not true). When they reach his door, Law takes his own shoes off first, and Zoro’s not really looking, but he immediately recognizes the socks Law’s wearing as his own. It’s the winding orange stripe on the left one, fixing a tear from when he’d caught it on a splinter in the wash basin. They’d only had orange yarn because Nami had gotten it on sale and wouldn’t spare him any of the nicer stuff. Law follows his line of sight. 

“I’m wearing yours, too,” Zoro says.

He pulls off first one boot, then the other, illustrating his words, and flexes his feet on the floor. Law smiles, very slightly--cute.

“Keep them,” he says, just before Zoro kisses him, bumping his toes against Law’s.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I missed writing them ;w;


End file.
